


Together

by Hi0ctane



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hi0ctane/pseuds/Hi0ctane
Summary: Minho has been pining for one of his fellow models for a long time now. When the man in question gets injured in an accident he sees only one way to get to the hospital with him: he tells the officials he’s his fiancé…





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Dear museelo,
> 
> I wish you the very best of holidays, a pleasant and happy time with the people you love the most, wonderful gifts and an amazing start into the New Year. I hope this little present finds you well and brings you some joy. It’s my first time writing for the Fake Relationship trope (with a big dash of Modern AU as well!), and I sincerely hope you like what you find under your proverbial Christmas tree here.
> 
> Happy holiday, and all the best for you. :)
> 
> Your secret santa ♥

Minho checked his watch a lot in the morning. 

It was a habit, really; it was the first thing he looked at when he got out of bed, then during and after his run to make sure he was on time. He glanced at it when he entered the glass-and-metal entrance to his workspace - a wide-open office tower inhabited by the personnel and photographers of Wicked Gaze, an upstate modelling magazine that regularly drew the interests of everyone who deemed themselves mighty and rich enough to spend their money for nothing but beauty surrounding them. Originally, Minho had started as a model for Wicked Gaze himself, but recently he had been dabbling in other arts – which had led him to the side of one of his oldest friends in the business, Alby, as his photography assistant. It was a new side of the same coin, and while Minho was ready to return to the modelling world soon, he was finishing his last assignments at Alby’s side… which led to him checking his watch once more, taking the precise time he would arrive. Nine thirty sharp, like the most beautiful clockwork he’d ever seen.

And there he was again. 

Minho’s eyes followed the young man that entered their floor with a brisk step, almost drowning in his dark red coat. He walked past the other models and greeted the make-up assistants with a small nod before turning his head towards his direction. His heart fluttered a little as the blonde smiled, waving at him with a happy expression before sitting down in his preparation chair, turning his back to him.

Newt – or Newton, technically, though he seemed to hate the name and had almost immediately demanded never to be called by it, ever – was one Wicked’s most famous models, already having worked for them before Minho had signed up for the first time. He’d come from the UK a long time ago, but had never lost his accent. He liked books and English Breakfast tea, and he had never been late for work, ever. At least not that Minho had heard about it. He’d also been his friend ever since they had a shooting together, wearing matching suits and joking about going to a very gay wedding. 

He was also one of the most beautiful people Minho had ever seen, despite the shadow that seemed to follow him around recently.

Because he always looked… somewhat lost, Minho thought. There was no other way to describe it; like Newt was spending most time inside of his own head, not really taking part in the outside world anymore. He sipped his water and glanced around, answering questions whenever his stylist asked him, and from what Minho could see he still did his job perfectly, if not better. No photographers ever complained, least of all Alby; they had a good working relationship, and Newt seemed to trust him more than others, even smiling from time to time. But once the cameras shut off, once he took off the sometimes outrageous makeup and dressed back in his casual slacks and ponchos, Newt seemed to shrink away from everyone, hiding behind scarves and coats too big for his slender frame, bidding them goodbye with soft words and softer hands. 

And Minho, despite barely talking to him outside of work instructions and very loose small-talk these days, was entirely smitten. 

“You should ask him, you know,” Alby said one morning, after the second cup of coffee, surrounded by make-up artists and models getting ready for their upcoming shoots. He knew – but then again Alby always did, when it came to Minho. He seemed to read him like a book. 

“Ask who?” Minho replied, feigning innocence and finishing his bagel. The photos from the last shooting were still spread out in front of him, Newt’s face on some of them. He looked positively radiant in the sharp two-tones of greyscale photography, his dark eyes almost glowing in his pale, elegant face. 

“Ask Newt if he wants to go out with you,” Alby replied, matter-of-factly. “He seems to like you. Maybe he’s interested.” 

“Please,” Minho scoffed. He looked at the pictures, then back up at Alby’s face, frowning.   
“He barely talks to anyone, and just because we’re getting along well during work it doesn’t mean that he, what, wants me in his life permanently? We’re just friends. Nothing more.”

“Suit yourself,” Alby replied with a quiet chuckle, going back to his photos. He was about to say more when they heard the screeching of tires through the open window, followed by a loud noise and the screams of people.

They were both down the stairs within seconds. 

Minho’s watch read 9:24. 

 

xxxx

 

There was chaos on the street. Somebody was yelling for the ambulance as Minho and Alby approached. Others were running like their life depended on it.   
A car was speeding down the road, away from them. And on the street, lying on the ground and speckled with red that was all across his maroon coat already – 

“Newt!”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Alby said, even as Minho was already running ahead. His heart was hammering in his throat; a sudden, cold dread filled his very core as he slid to the ground, grabbing Newt’s hand and shaking him lightly. 

“Newt, stay with me – “ 

The blonde groaned in pain, his fingers closing tightly around Minho’s own hand. His eyes fluttered open and he hacked up a splatter of blood, his breath wheezing. The blood on this coat came from his leg – a gashing wound, from what Minho could see, and bones that were broken in at least one place. The car had hit his right side as he had been crossing the street, from the looks of it, throwing him to the side and severely damaging his right leg. 

“Minho?” 

Newt’s voice was shaking badly, and his eyes were too wide, too scared. Minho didn’t know much about first aid, but he could see the onset of shock. He pressed a piece of cloth onto the biggest gash on Newt’s leg with one hand, still holding him with the others. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, the ambulance is on its way –“ 

He could already hear the sirens. Newt cried out in pain and tried to sit up, but Minho pressed him back down, holding him still. 

“ – You’re going to be okay, Newt, I promise, I’m not going anywhere. You’ll get back to your feet, I promise, you’re going to be okay –“ 

“M-my leg,” he stammered, specs of red on his almost entirely white lips. He looked terrified, way more terrified than Minho ever wanted to see him. “Minho, what happened – “

“Make some room, now!” a voice bellowed behind him. Two people were running towards them, one of them immediately going to Newt’s aid, the other – a girl no older than him, probably – taking Minho by the shoulders, checking him over. 

“Sir, are you injured? Do you know what happened?” 

“A car came and – and hit him,” Minho managed to stammer, realizing there was blood on his hands. Newt’s blood. It made him feel light-headed, almost ready to pass out, but he couldn’t. Newt needed him with a clear head. “They – is he going to be okay?” 

“We’re taking him to hospital, Sir,” the young woman said. Minho followed her gaze; two young men were helping Newt onto a stretcher, his leg bandaged to still the flow of blood. Looking at him like this, still feeling the touch of his hand on his own fingers like the afterglow of a soft fire, Minho didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d promised him he wouldn’t leave him. He promised – 

“I need to go with him,” he said, tone immediately stubborn. The girl didn’t look impressed. 

“We can’t allow others in the ambulance, Sir, it’s a – “

“I’m his fiancé,” Minho almost immediately said, words spoken before his mind properly registered them. What the hell, brain? But the girl’s face almost immediately softened, and she looked up at her colleagues, nodding slightly. 

“Alright. But you have to stand back, let us do our work. He’ll be okay.” 

Minho nodded and found himself climbing into the ambulance with shaky legs. Almost immediately he gravitated towards the stretcher, his hand clasping Newt’s firmly, looking down into his still fearful eyes. 

“Hey, I’m here,” he said, even as the ambulance came to a rumbling start, taking them towards the hospital. “I’m here. I’m going to stay with you, don’t you worry.” 

“Minho,” Newt whispered, and then was out cold. 

 

xxxx 

 

The hospital corridors were warm, but Minho still felt cold and clammy in a completely different way. He had watched doctors and nurses flit in and out of the room they had wheeled Newt into for more than an hour now, and he was ready to go up the wall. 

He had called Alby, bought a disgusting hospital coffee from a rumbling vending machine, and walked in circles. He washed his hands three times but still felt like the blood was still there. His stomach was tied into knots. He had promised Newt he’d stay with him, but there was no way he was allowed in the room; all he could do was wait.

At least his lie allowed him to get some news.

A male nurse approached him after what felt like an eternity. In another time, another life, Minho would have considered him cute, maybe would have flirted with him, even. Now, however, all he could think about was Newt. 

“He’s doing well,” the nurse said with a little smile. “He’s going to be okay. I assume he’ll be in there over night at the very least, but he’s stable, and they fixed the bleeding. He won’t be able to walk for a good while, however, and will probably need to use a wheelchair for the time being. Does that work with your housing situation?”

“My…” Minho began, but then fell silent immediately. Right. Engaged people usually lived together.   
“Yes, we have an elevator going right to our doorstep, and he’ll be okay in the flat, too,” he said instead, smiling unsteadily at the nurse. The nurse nodded his head, looking positively relieved. 

“You can go in and see him, if you want. He might be a little loopy, but he’ll be happy to see you.”

 

xxxx

 

There was a sharp stench of antiseptic in the air, mixed with the faint odour of blood. Minho ducked into the single bedroom, immediately making his way to the side of the bed Newt was laying in. The patient blinked owlishly, eyes focussing on his face.

“Minho,” he drawled, then actually smiled up at him. His expression was exhausted, but more or less whole; Newt reached out with a trembling hand, and Minho closed his fingers around it. He sat down next to the bed, refused to look at the thickly bandaged leg that was in a sturdy cast. 

“Hey. How’re you feeling?” he asked, swallowing against the nervous flutter in his stomach. The expression of relief stayed on Newt’s face, however. 

“Sore. ‘s bloody hurts,” he murmured. Blinked. “They told me what happened, a car…” 

“Yeah. Didn’t look like a freakin’ accident to me, man. What, you got ties to the mafia?” He tried to go for light-hearted, but the immediate shift in Newt’s face made him regret his choice of words instantly. 

“Not the mafia, but… there’s people… let’s not talk about this now. How are you even allowed in here?” 

This made Minho duck his head, actually feeling embarrassed. He looked around carefully, noticing with pleasure that nobody was around. 

“I kind of told them we’re engaged so they’d let me stay with you in the car, and then I didn’t really think about taking it back, so – “ 

To his surprise Newt let out a startled bout of laughter, hands immediately flying to his likely bruised ribs and ending it with a groan. Minho had to admit that he liked the sound of him laughing, however short. 

“Nice… Thanks for doing that, really. I appreciate it,” Newt added with the faintest hint of a smile. It faltered quickly, however, as his eyes flickered to the phone on the bedside table. 

“They called my sister – my sister in the UK. Apparently she thinks I am dying, and she’s taking the next flight to the East Coast. She’ll be here in two days, probably.”

Minho frowned. “And that’s a problem why exactly…?” 

“Sonya and I … disagree. A lot. She’s a lovely girl, but she’s my sister, and she’s trying to mother me ever since our parents died, despite being younger. I had a number of different arguments why she could never visit, like living with other people and having a really small flat. I even faked a relationship before to stop her from asking all the time. But I guess I can’t stop her this time…”

“Well.” Minho cleared his throat. He looked up at Newt, grinning a little despite the situation, despite the dried blood still underneath his fingernails. “I guess you can stay at my place, for now, and she can take a hotel room? I mean – the hospital thinks we’re engaged, anyway, so why not tell your sister the same story? You just never mentioned me because, uh, you were nervous about coming out or something? It would make sense. You don’t need to go back home, I can take a couple days off, make sure you’re settling in okay and your sister doesn’t love you to death, and you just – you just stay there, relax, fix your health. We get you back on track. And my apartment is way better than yours, I don’t have any extra stairs leading to the bedroom after all.” 

Newt looked at him with slightly red-rimmed eyes, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He almost looked like a pouting kid at this point, too young and too thin and Minho wanted to do nothing but wrap him up in a blanket and sit him down on a couch, make him watch stupid rom coms and sleep off his pain. This was already dipping into dangerous territory. 

“You’re sure about that,” Newt asked, voice hoarse. Minho laughed. 

“Sure am. Your sister won’t ever know. And once she’s safely back in UK you can go back to your old life and tell her we broke up over all the stress and I’m not going to go all mother hen on you anymore. Deal?” 

Newt looked at him as he spoke, really looked at him. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and seemed deep in thought for the longest moment. But when he spoke Minho’s heart did a little leap in his chest, completely against his will.

“…Alright, deal. Just get me outta here.”

 

xxxx

 

Getting released from the hospital wasn’t as easy as Minho would have thought. Sure, their nurse was as helpful as they got, but he was adamant about keeping Newt in overnight. Minho finally agreed and left to clean up his flat a little, texting Alby that he wouldn’t be back to work immediately as he had to keep an eye on Newt. 

Alby called him back, as expected. Minho refused to mention his and Newt’s little deal, but he suspected that Alby had his own ideas about how he managed to ride in the back of the ambulance. 

The next day Minho took the bus to the hospital right after breakfast, readying himself for quite some time in the waiting room. He wasn’t mistaken – the doctors took their sweet time until they finally signed the papers needed for release, and by the time they were finished Minho was waiting almost anxiously, and felt like he was starving on top of it. 

Then, however, all his thoughts disappeared. 

The door opened, and their gorgeous nurse (Minho had picked up that his name was Thomas) pushed a very disgruntled Newt in a wheelchair across the landing. The blonde looked as unhappy as they came, but his face lit up a little as he saw Minho sauntering towards him, all smiles and open arms. 

They had appearances to keep.

“Hey,” Minho said breathlessly, received an almost shy “Hi,” in return. Newt’s leg was in a cast, his upper body almost hidden underneath several layers of clothes. His coat was nowhere to be seen. 

Minho didn’t hesitate; he leaned down and put his arms around Newt, hugging him briefly. Appearances. He felt the other go stiff at first, then relax visibly into the embrace. 

Thomas smiled. “All papers are finished. You’ll be required to come back for a check-in next week, but until then, please do take it easy. Try not to walk too much, don’t get the cast too wet, and no strenuous activities for now. There’s prescription painkillers in the bag, you’re required to take them twice a day. Other than that? Just take care of yourself. I see you both next week.” 

They said their thanks, Minho’s hands curling around the handles of the wheelchair, pushing carefully. He took Newt out of the hospital with a wave to the doctors. 

Then, they were out. Almost immediately Newt let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“We’re taking a taxi home,” Minho said before he could say anything against the suggestion. “It’s cold as shuck out here, and you’re just going to catch death. Do you want my jacket?” 

The blonde blinked, shaking his head softly. There was a faint hint of a smile on his face again.  
“No, no, it’s alright. I’m not cold. Just… let’s get going, shall we?”

 

xxxx

 

The taxi ride was slightly awkward – not because they didn’t like each other, but because of the oddity of the situation. To both hospital officials and Newt’s sister Sonya (who was scheduled to arrive in a day, and would likely immediately seek out her brother) they were a couple now, engaged for about four months. They had discussed where they met – work – and where Minho proposed – a skyscraper rooftop during a weekend getaway – but it still felt foreign. Both sat in the back seat, side by side, not ready to talk much about what was ahead of them. 

When they arrived at the house Minho lived in, they paid the driver quickly, helping Newt back in his wheelchair. The house wasn’t new to Newt – he had stayed over once or twice before – but the premise was all new.   
They ended up in the elevator before they spoke again, Newt sighing. 

“I’m sorry – this is a lot,” he muttered, defeat in his voice. “I have no idea how we’re going to make Sonya believe that we’re engaged already – “

“Aw, come on. We’ll make it work,” Minho replied easily, wheeling him out once they reached the sixth floor. “We just need to practice a little. Any pet names I should use?” 

“I am going to gut you if you do,” the blonde replied sweetly. Minho made a face. 

“Alright, alright, got it, no pet names for you. For me neither, it’s bad enough how most people butcher my given name. Newt it is, then. Well, you gotta tell me a lot about yourself tonight, so we look like we’ve known each other well for a longer time.”

“At least a year,” the blonde murmured. “That’s a good time frame, right? Quick engagement, maybe, but we’re going to have a dramatic breakup, so it makes sense?” 

“Yeah, it does. A year. Met you at Alby’s holiday photoshoot, that’s always a blast.” 

Minho unlocked the door, clicked on the light. He helped Newt inside, steering him towards the living room. 

“You got a new couch,” Newt observed immediately. He didn’t wait much longer and climbed – with much difficulty – out of the wheelchair, sitting down at the edge of the sofa. “Is this where I sleep?” 

“Where you – no, Newt, you’re taking the bed for Christ’s sake. This couch looks fancy but it’s going to kill your back. You do not need more pain. Besides, bathroom’s closer to the bedroom anyway, in case you need to use the loo.” 

“And you’re sleeping on the back killer?” Newt made a face. “Don’t really like that idea, either.” 

“I will survive. Now, how for some lunch? I have about half a chicken and plenty of vegetables in the kitchen.” 

 

xxxx

 

They ate together, discussing their life stories between bites and sips of water. Minho quickly realized that despite being Newt’s friend for a while there was a world of things he didn’t yet know about the blonde – starting with little things, like his interests in books (but always real ones, ‘not the digital crap, they don’t have the smell’) and ending with more serious matters like his troubled sleep schedule and his odd eating habits. (Minho found out the latter himself when he watched Newt picking at his food, but insisting that he liked it – he just couldn’t finish a meal in one sitting when stressed. Minho just shrugged it off, suggesting he could eat the rest at a later time, and found Newt smiling in actual relief. He also actually did pick it up later, pleasing the Asian immensely, even though he wouldn’t admit it.)

Since Sonya was to arrive late the next day, Minho suggested that he could get some personal things and clothes from Newt’s flat in the morning. He called Alby about it, explaining parts of the situation and asking for some days off, which he was easily granted. Alby even offered him his car to reach the other’s flat easier. 

“Didn’t know you had a licence,” Newt said after he hung up. He stretched his uninjured leg, wincing a little as he jostled the other. Minho smirked. 

“Sure have. You don’t?” 

“Nah. You people drive on the wrong side of the road,” Newt quipped back, offering him a lopsided smirk. Minho actually found himself laughing at that, shaking his head. He sure was something. 

They agreed to drive to Newt’s flat together in the morning, fetching the most important things to make sure Minho’s apartment looked like they both lived in it. They would then drive to the airport later, fetching Sonya. Their talks led both boys deep into the evening, and when Minho checked the clock next it was already long dark outside, the wintery air casting a faint sheen of white to his windows. 

Minho cooked them a light dinner and tossed on a movie, both of them sitting next to each other on the couch, touching a little. They were still practicing the art of casual touch to make their relationship appear genuine, but it was beginning to work; Newt even put his head on Minho’s shoulder when he was beginning to get drowsy, yawning into the other’s collar. 

“Time for bed,” Minho declared when he found the other dozing off slightly. Newt agreed, following him into the bedroom without the help of the wheelchair, just leaning heavily onto the crutch they had brought from the hospital. Small mercies, really; he already hated the wheelchair with passion. 

“You are more the pyjama-type, I recon?” Minho asked, his head inside his wardrobe. He picked out a black one for Newt and a shirt-and-shorts-combo for himself, then helped the blonde inside the bathroom to get ready for bed. They even found a spare toothbrush in one of his cabinets. 

When both were done taking turns in the bath Newt spoke up. 

“I don’t want you to sleep on that bloody couch. Your bed is huge. Let’s just share it, a’right? I promise I’m not going to kick you.” 

“That’s what you say now,” Minho muttered back, but he grinned. “Sure, I’m game. Make some room, you’re getting the left side. That’s better for your leg.” 

They both settled down on the bed, each taking their respective sides. Minho clicked off the light, wishing Newt a good night, and received a drawled-out ‘night’ in return. He sure sounded tired. 

 

xxxx

 

The first thing Minho noticed when waking up was warmth – immense, but wonderful warmth in front of him, a comfortable stretch of genuine, physical happiness. He smiled and nuzzled closer into the feeling… before waking enough to sober up a little. That warmth didn’t really belong in his bed. 

He opened his eyes to see a blonde mop of hair tucked in just underneath his chin, Newt lying wrapped up in his arms like a perfect little spoon. The brit muttered in his sleep, then drew Minho’s arm closer around himself, eyes firmly closed. Still half asleep, if not more. 

Well, this came as a surprise. 

“Mornin’, shank,” Minho murmured, lifting his arm a little to give Newt some room as he woke. His leg was propped up properly, not giving him any problems apparently. Good. 

“Urgh, it’s too bloody early,” Newt complained into the pillow before opening his eyes. There was a moment where he froze a little, whole body stiffening in Minho’s arms… before relaxing again. 

“That… wasn’t planned.” 

“Didn’t know you were a hugger,” Minho replied teasingly. He helped Newt sit up, ran a hand through his unruly hair almost on instinct. It was as soft as it looked. 

“Me neither,” Newt admitted with a startled little laugh. He yawned, but looked positively awake at this point. “You’re very inviting. Also I think I’ve never seen you with your hair down like this.” 

Minho grinned. “That’s part of the benefits of being my fiancé.” 

“Oh, shut up and make me some tea, will you.” 

 

xxxx

 

The morning passed easily; they had breakfast, Newt complained about his choices in tea and demanded that they went shopping before going to the airport, and got dressed. Minho left to get the car from Alby, leaving Newt alone in the flat for a while, not minding one bit to his own surprise. When he returned they drove off to the blonde’s small flat and fetched some personal things he wouldn’t stay without, as well as enough clothes to get by for a week. They also bought groceries together, despite Minho feeling a little bad about it – he didn’t want Newt walking around like this, but he plainly refused his wheelchair. 

When they returned to the apartment Newt was tired beyond belief. He sat down heavily on the couch, sighing into one of the blankets spread across it, and stated that he would never move again. 

“Here’s a deal,” Minho suggested, putting away the last of the groceries in the kitchen. “You take a nap, replenish your energy. I get your sister. Just send her a mail that she knows who to look for instead of your own pretty face.” 

“I don’t want you to do that alone, but I also can’t disagree that it’s a good idea,” Newt groaned. He had managed to sit up again, but he looked pale and exhausted, and Minho really didn’t want him to move around any more than needed. He felt a surge of protectiveness inside of him.   
“You sure you’re okay with it?” 

“You think she’s going to kill me with her laser eyes? Come on, I’m good shank. Everyone loves me,” Minho grinned. He put on the kettle as he spoke, prepared a cup of tea carefully. He was definitely a coffee type himself, but Newt seemed to drink immense amounts of tea, judging from his kitchen at home, so he better got used to making it before it looked odd that he didn’t know how to.   
“You just nap like a boss. It’ll do you good.” 

“Alright, if you say so,” Newt murmured. He took the offered cup with outstretched hands, smiling a little. Minho watched him pour a dash of milk into the beverage. No sugar though. So odd. 

“Sure. You’ll see, once we get back here we’ll be best of friends already.” 

 

xxxx

 

Minho was wrong. 

Sonya was just as fiery as her older brother used to be when Minho met him for the first time – beautiful, with blonde hair and brown eyes and energy to match the sparkle in her gaze. She arrived with a backpack full of things and the immediately question where Newt was, and how he was feeling, and why the hell had he never mentioned Minho before? 

Minho, thankfully, came prepared to the flurry of questions. He took Sonya’s bag and led her to the car, explaining that Newt had always been a little shy regarding relationships and was worried about mentioning him to his sister. They both worked as models, back when they met, and were people of popular interest, and it had been a smart idea to hide their relationship entirely to keep away from media drama. That didn’t mean that he was ashamed of Minho, however; just careful what he voiced in public and what not. 

Sonya didn’t seem happy about it, but accepted the answer. She spend the rest of the drive grilling Minho about his life so far, relentlessly asking questions to make sure he did mean well with her brother. It was… actually cute, Minho thought to himself. Sonya was fiercely protective of her older brother, and she took great care to make sure Minho wasn’t out to hurt him. 

They reached the flat and rode the elevator up, and as soon as the door was opened Sonya flitted inside, tackling her brother on the couch as gently as possible. Newt’s hair was ruffled and he looked positively adorable, hugging her back softly and running a hand through her hair. 

He looked… happy. Warm. It made Minho feel good. 

Maybe Sonya’s visit wasn’t so bad. 

That thought vanished about an hour later when both siblings were in a heated discussion about Newt’s tendency to secrecy. Minho shook his head and sat down on Newt’s other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and drawing him against his side, even dropping a kiss to the back of his head. 

Newt positively melted in his embrace, letting out a whoosh of air. And yeah, this was also new. Minho saved it in the back of his head.   
Touch really worked wonders. 

“You want to have dinner with us?” Minho suggestion across the crown of Newt’s head. “We can cook something. Do you already have a hotel picked out?” 

“Not really,” Sonya muttered, “I kinda booked the next flight possible, didn’t really think about where to stay. I thought…” 

She didn’t finish the sentence, eyes going to Newt’s face almost pleadingly. The blonde tensed against Minho, not even relaxing as the other ran a hand across his back in a soothing gesture. 

“We don’t really have room – “ he started, sharply. But Sonya kept up the pleading gaze, and Newt bristled visibly.   
“Maybe for the first night – I mean we can probably arrange something – “

“It’s fine for me,” Minho assured. “You can have the couch if you want? It’s not really the best place to sleep, but it’s a roof over your head, and we find you something tomorrow.” 

“Thanks guys. That means a lot,” Sonya said softly, before continuing to comment on Newt’s uncomfortable seating position, and really, he was putting way too much strain on his leg. 

 

xxxx

 

“She loves you,” Minho said honestly once they were getting ready for bed. The bedroom door was already closed, Sonya settled for the night after a hearty dinner. Newt groaned, toothbrush still in his mouth, leaning on the edge of the sink. 

They had already stopped using the bathroom after each other, brushing their teeth side by side like they had never done anything else. Minho was in his shorts, the t-shirt still folded on the bed; Newt already wore his pyjamas, drowning in the oversized black. He had his own now, too, but for some reason had decided to wear Minho’s again instead. He spit into the sink, running a hand across his face. 

“I love her, too,” he said, “But she can be too much. When you were in the bathroom she immediately tackled me with questions about when we’re going to marry.” 

“I’m for a seaside wedding,” Minho mused, grinning, as he combed his hair. Newt just blew out air, laughing softly.   
“No, really. Somewhere in the south, where it’s warm. You could wear a white suit and I wear a black one. The media would be all over it. Wedding of the century. Alby takes our pictures and you get a massive cake with white chocolate and strawberries.” 

“You remember,” Newt chuckled, mirth dancing in his eyes. For some reason it was easy, planning their imaginary wedding, including their imaginary cakes. Minho scoffed. 

“Of course I do. I’m good like that. A natural number ten.” 

“Sure you are,” Newt replied warmly, leaving the bathroom slowly. Minho offered him his shoulder to hold on to, and together they hobbled towards the bed, killing the lights in the process. 

And if they ended up wrapped up in one another again, nobody had to know. 

 

xxxx

 

They didn’t find a hotel for Sonya; all were either too far away or plainly put too expensive for an UK university student. Newt agonized over the fact, but Minho just shrugged his shoulders and offered her the couch for the time of her stay, which would be two weeks. Sonya beamed hearing those news, and promised to make herself useful in the household while she stayed over. 

They all fell into a comfortable routine after a few days. Newt and Minho woke in the early morning hours, always tangled up on one side of the bed, bathing in each other’s warmth. Minho cooked tea for Newt and Sonya and coffee for himself and listened to the siblings bicker during breakfast. They sometimes went out – although Newt complained about ‘that bloody wheelchair’ a lot – or stayed in, watching comedy flicks on the couch or playing games together. It was… actually nice. 

Pretending to be a couple was also much easier than Minho had anticipated. The casual touching came easy once he realized how much Newt seemed to love it – starting with small shoulder rubs and developing into actual full body hugs in the evening, when Newt was ready to doze off on his shoulder. One night he actually fell asleep there, and Minho, grinning all the while, carried him off to bed. Of course Newt had woken up and complained, but the furious blush that coloured his cheeks had definitely made it worth his while. 

They didn’t kiss out in the open, but Sonya didn’t seem to think anything about it. Sometimes Minho nuzzled into Newt’s hair or caressed the messy blond mop, and sometimes Newt dropped a kiss to Minho’s hand, but they never kissed properly. They hadn’t talked about it, either – this, it seems, seemed to be too much of the game for either of them. But their casual exchanges came natural enough that Sonya never asked them about their relationship, and really, they were both happy about that. 

Which didn’t mean that Minho didn’t want to kiss that handsome face that looked up at him in the morning, or that stupid smile whenever he made Newt a cup of tea the way he loved it. By the end of the first week the want made him almost mad, the strange kind of desire he knew he couldn’t really act upon. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom one late afternoon where Newt had been lying on the couch, head in his lap like he belonged there. The sheer proximity alone had been enough to warrant a cold shower. 

Speaking of showers, they were another part of Minho’s problems he never wanted to go without. Newt couldn’t stand up without crutches, and the slippery shower floor sure was dangerous with a full cast, and so Minho had suggested his help without thinking much... which meant he got to see the flawless expanse of Newt’s long legs and delicate torso more often than he’d expected to. 

Sure, they both wore swimming trunks for the little bit of modesty that remained between them, but they didn’t cover much. And Minho loved every second of it, relishing in helping Newt get clean, dry him off in the fluffiest towel he could find. He also loved the way Newt wrapped his hair up in another towel, walking around in his loose shorts for a while as he picked out his clothes from the wardrobe. Yup, nice view for sure. 

He cursed himself. He was already in deep. 

 

xxxx

 

It was near the end of Sonya’s visit when they sat in the kitchen, alone for once; their guest was out to see the city, and Minho had decided to stay with Newt. The blonde had been moody all morning, after his trip to the hospital and the much-needed check-up the day before. Thomas the nurse had greeted them with a happy expression, but his verdict on Newt’s injury hadn’t been as good as they expected. The bone was set well enough, and they likely wouldn’t have to operate, but there was no way in telling if Newt’s foot would ever heal perfectly, and his modelling career was in deep trouble. 

If it didn’t heal perfectly, he wouldn’t be able to participate in catwalks any more. And sure, this was only a part of what Newt did – a small part, actually – but he loved it. Having that taken away from him, however sure or unsure it was at this point… it didn’t sit well with him. 

His grumpy mood set Minho on edge, too. That night Newt had slept on his side of the bed, not moving towards him at all; that morning he had refused to shower with him, rather going through the arduous process of washing his hair himself. Minho was getting ready to tear his hair out. He didn’t want Newt angry, or unhappy, or sad – and the fact that he was made him feel antsier than he’d expect to be. 

“Come on, shank,” he said after about an hour of pensive silence, “we don’t know shit yet. Your leg might heal perfectly fine. It’s still in the process! And if it doesn’t work out immediately we can always go for rehabilitation, get your leg trained properly – “

“We?” Newt scoffed, sounding bitter. There was a hardness in his eyes that surprised Minho, that actually made him lean back in shocked surprise. “There is no we after my sister is back home, Minho. This all? It’s just a play pretend for you, anyway, isn’t it? A nice way to pass the time, take care of the cripple for your own feel good moments around Christmas. Isn’t that the truth?” 

Those words stung. But at the same time, those words made Minho suddenly angry. 

He lashed forward without thinking, his hands coming up to frame Newt’s shoulders. He pressed him back on the couch, leaning across him. 

“Play pretend? Cripple? Are you even listening to yourself, shuckface? You are no cripple. You’re injured, and you need a hand, yes, but you really think I am doing this for, what? My crazy benefit? I do this because I like you, idiot, because you make me nervous in all the good ways, because I love that look on your stupid face when you wake up and because I want to spend time with you. Because I wanted to ask you way before and never found the perfect moment, and then I saw you lying on that street and I suddenly realized that there’s no waiting forever and I had to act, and, shit – “ 

He didn’t get any farther. Newt’s eyes went wide like saucers, and Minho didn’t hesitate any longer – he surged forward, pressing his lips to Newt’s to communicate all the things he couldn’t communicate by words alone. He was afraid Newt would remain frozen all the time, but then the blonde threw his arms around his shoulders and kissed him back with a desperation that made Minho reel. 

When they separated Newt was shaking, actually shaking, and Minho drew him into a hug, against his chest, mindful of his leg. He could hear a sound that was close to a sob and allowed Newt to hide his face in his shoulder like he sometimes did at night. 

“I’m scared,” the blonde hiccupped. “I’m scared and I don’t want this to be a game anymore, Minho, I am sick of pretending that this doesn’t make me feel like it’s the best thing that ever happened to me – “ 

“Then stop pretending,” Minho said fervently. “Make it real. Go out with me for real. Sure, you don’t need to move in immediately, and we don’t need to make this engagement a thing right away, but – let’s do all the things we’re pretending to do and make them a reality.” 

Minho looked at him, smiling, thinking of the teacups in his kitchen and the books all across his bedroom, the clothes in the hamper and Newt’s smell on everything he owned. He loved it. He wanted to keep it. 

The blonde finally nodded, shakily, and leaned in for another kiss. It was much slower, much softer, and Minho found himself leaning into it. 

“We get you back on your feet, Newt, I promise,” he muttered once they had parted. “Your leg will heal, and you’ll be okay. And once you are, and once you want it, we can make this thing official. I don’t care if anyone else knows. I just want you in my life.” 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, you finally did it.” 

Both flinched and turned around immediately, facing Sonya who just entered the flat. She took off her coat, shaking her head fondly. 

“Don’t think for one second I hadn’t doubted this whole thing from the beginning, but it was easy to see how smitten you both were with one another. I figured you’d need a little time to make it official and tell each other what you really want. And by the way, none of you showed off your ring to me – kinda obvious for someone that pretended to be oh-so-very engaged.” 

She winked as her brother cursed quietly. Minho just laughed. 

“Detective Sonya, I see. Well, I’m getting your brother a ring down the line – just give it some time. Maybe a year or something. I kinda wanna go the whole nine yards of dating first.” 

Newt nodded his head, slowly, still holding on to Minho’s hand; they hadn’t separated, despite Sonya walking in on them. “I don’t want to rush things, okay? Just… let’s go the long way, as you said. Make memories. Experiences. All those good things…” 

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, his heart full with a feeling he had missed for too long: Love. “Together.”


End file.
